


A Phone Call

by BaredWolf



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Coda, Episode: s09e14, Episode: s09e14 Captives, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, M/M, Phone Calls & Telephones, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2018-01-14 09:20:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1261144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BaredWolf/pseuds/BaredWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Dean goes to his room at the end of episode 9x14 (Captives), he makes a phone call to Castiel. They talk about empty spaces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Phone Call

Dean sighed, his body aching and tense despite the memory foam of his mattress, the music from his headphones blasting tinnily against his ears and grating on his nerves rather than soothing them. He pulled his headphones off, letting them rest next to him on the empty half of his bed.

He had to let it go, give Sam space, give him time, he thought, rubbing his palms over his thighs, relishing the burning heat that built from the friction against his jeans. He turned his eyes to the ceiling, closing them briefly, before digging into his pocket to pull out his cell phone. He punched the number at the top of his favorites list, hoping it would still work. 

"It has been a very long day," Castiel said, his voice cutting in over a ring with no preamble. 

"Yeah, tell me about it," Dean answered, the tension slowly ebbing out of his body. 

"You go first." There was a strange silence on Castiel’s end of the line where neither of them spoke. Dean wondered where he was. 

"Uh, well, Kevin’s a ghost, and his mom’s alive. Turns out heaven’s shut up tight so he can’t get upstairs until we fix it."

"I’ve been working on that."

"And?" The empty space next to him felt cold, like a fathomless hole in the earth instead of a bed. He heard a heater kick on, wondered if Castiel had gotten himself a motel room.

"I killed an…an old friend today."

"That sucks."

“Tell me about it. Also, I seem to be attracting an army. Again. Except that this time, I don’t really want it.”

"What?"

Castiel sighed. “The…the friend, who I killed. He was leading one of the factions of angels here on earth. Some of his adherents decided they liked the concept of free will, and have selected me to be their leader.”

"This guy was a little more than a friend, wasn’t he." Factions and armies and Castiel the Rebel Leader. It was a lot to take in. But something in Castiel’s voice hitched when he talked about this guy, messy as their ending may have been. 

"There was a time…" Castiel trailed off. "It’s over now, though. He chose his path, as I chose mine." 

"Choices can really bite you in the ass, can’t they." All this noise about free will. Where had it ever gotten any of them?

"I’ve created chaos, and every attempt to rein it in seems to only generate more chaos." Dean could hear Castiel swallow. 

"Things are still bad with Sam." 

"Is he talking to you?"

"He’s slamming doors." Dean tried to keep the pain out of his voice, but he choked a little on his words. 

"You need time."

"No, you’re right. He’s gonna be angry. I mean, I fucked up bad." It was almost easier to say it, when he didn’t have to look into Castiel’s eyes. Almost easier: not easy enough that he didn’t wish Castiel was here anyways. 

"Dean. It’s more than that." Castiel’s tone was equal parts hesitant and determined: he knew he was going to say something Dean didn’t want to hear.

“How so?” Dean sat up a little straighter.

"I don’t just think Sam needs time to ‘get over it’. Not this time. He needs…he’s an adult, Dean, and he needs your relationship to reflect that."

"Our relationship does reflect that," Dean retorted, almost flinching at the defensive tone of his words. 

"Not when you still refuse to let him make his own choices." Castiel’s voice was gentle, but his words burned anyways.

"It’s my job to protect him," Dean hissed, fighting down the choking wave of fear that clenched his gut as he started to understand what Castiel was saying. 

"Not against his will."

“You think I was being selfish too.” He didn’t need this from both of them, he could just hang up and put his headphones back on and  _not deal_  with it. Instead, he gripped the phone tighter. 

"You don’t?" 

Dean didn’t know how to respond to that. Because Castiel was right. It was probably the most selfish thing Dean had ever done. 

"I’m poison," he choked out, finally. The words had been going around and around in his brain for weeks, a chorus in his own voice that he couldn’t drown out. 

"No, Dean, you aren’t. You’re a good man." The earnestness in Castiel’s tone made Dean’s eyes burn, his brow furrowing as he covered his face with his hand. "But you’ve let your love for your brother grow toxic. The ends cannot justify the means. He has to be able to make his own decisions." 

"I can’t lose him, Cas."  _I can’t lose you, either_ , he thought.  _But if I can’t keep you then I’m sure as hell not going to be able to let go of him_. Where would that leave Dean? Alone.

"Letting go and losing him are not the same thing."

"Sure as hell feels like it." Dean scrubbed his hand over his face, barely surprised when his fingers came away wet. 

"I know," Castiel replied, and his tone made Dean wonder who Castiel was letting go of.

"We’re a regular pair of fuck-ups, aren’t we." Dean tipped his head back to rest against the wall above his headboard.

"I don’t know," Castiel replied. Dean listened to Castiel’s breathing, imagining him alone in a tacky motel room, the place so quiet that he could hear the sound of Castiel scratching his cheek. 

"I miss you." The words were out of Dean’s mouth before he realized that he was thinking them, the ache in his chest expressing itself without checking in with his brain first. Castiel was quiet for a moment. 

"I miss you too," he replied, finally. "Often."

"Sorry," Dean said softly, because they didn’t do this, didn’t dwell on the ache that they couldn’t soothe. He couldn’t keep Castiel, he knew, but it never seemed to stop him from wanting to try.

"Often…" Castiel trailed off. "I seem to be suffering some linger effects of being human." 

"You still pounding back those burritos?" Dean teased, the moment of levity a balm to the weight of their conversation. He heard Castiel’s breath change a little: he thought that if he could see him, Castiel would be smiling. He wished he could see him. 

"No, it’s…I sleep, still, sometimes. I dream." 

"Let me guess. Long legs, gorgeous smile, a regular knockout…am I getting warm?" Dean felt himself smiling, the grin making his face hurt a little at the abrupt shift in how he was using the muscles.

"Sort of," Castiel hedged. "I…usually, I dream about you." 

"Oh," Dean answered, the word punched out of him on a surprise exhale. He could feel the grin fall from his face, surprise slackening his features.

"I don’t like it."

"Oh." Disappointment. That wasn’t exactly what Dean had expected to hear. 

"I always feel…alone, when I wake up." 

"Oh." Understanding. Dean knew that feeling. His hand splayed over the cold, empty side of his bed, absentmindedly fingering the bedspread. "Yeah, I know how that goes." 

"How do you deal with it?" Castiel asked.

Dean huffed a laugh. “I’m really not the guy you should be asking for healthy coping techniques, Cas.”

Castiel was quiet on the other end of the line. Dean listened to his steady breathing. 

"I’m saving a place for you," he finally said, his voice so quiet he wondered if Castiel would hear him at all. Because that was how he was dealing: by holding on to his useless hope.

"For what?" Castiel asked. 

"So you won’t have to be alone when you wake up." He felt like his ribs were cracking open, his body forced to create new orifices to release the words to Castiel’s ears.  _So I won’t have to be alone, either_ , he thought. 

Castiel was quiet. Then, softly, he said, “I’d like that.”


End file.
